


The Sun's Starting to Rise (These are Beautiful Times)

by jelly_pies



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Has Nightmares, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), let Peter take a breath between Endgame and FFH challenge, miles morales cameo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:20:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jelly_pies/pseuds/jelly_pies
Summary: Peter would have thought everything would be alright now. Sunshine and rainbows and whatever happy endings were supposed to be made of. But it isn't that easy when things have changed five years too much."It's a whole different world," he finds himself opening up. "Almost feels like being lost in your own home."-Peter has a hard time between nightmares and trying to settle back in to normal life. His family is there for him.
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 19
Kudos: 34





	The Sun's Starting to Rise (These are Beautiful Times)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [An_Odd_Idea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/An_Odd_Idea/gifts).



> A belated little gift! Title from Beautiful Times by Owl City, which I discovered because of you. Have a very merry... well, unbirthday by now haha. Your hopeful outlook in life doesn't go unnoticed, or unappreciated ❤️
> 
> Thanks for clicking on this, everyone, I hope you enjoy!

It isn’t that easy.

Peter would have thought, with the reversal of the Decimation, and the defeat of a universe-killing Titan, and the Wakandan doctors announcing Tony’s recovery—everything would be alright now. Sunshine and rainbows and whatever happy endings were supposed to be made of.

Maybe that was partly true. They had their moments of the sun breaking through the clouds, for sure—like his and May’s reunion, both of them still a little confused, both of them grateful they never had to mourn each other. Tony waking up, giving Peter a second proper hug. Meeting little Ms. Stark.

On all accounts, Peter is happy now. He's supposed to be.

* * *

“Dude, we’re back.” Ned greets him with a full bear hug, and Peter easily reciprocates even though they’re in the middle of their high school hallway. (It’s Ned, and Peter would never mind, for one—but also, it’s as if everyone has become more open to affection after half the universe returned.)

He and Ned stick close to each other, a grounding familiarity in a world that changed overnight. A school that changed overnight. Everyone crowds into the gym and Peter does his best to make himself small—

_They’re crowding, they’re burying him, from one side then another—_

He shakes the memory off with effort. But then Ned comes up to sit beside him, and it makes Peter feel free to take up more space.

“Restart _half_ the school year?” Ned repeats incredulously, keeping Peter from zoning out as Principal Morita finishes his announcement. “But we were done with midterms when we Blipped!”

“New world. Same bull,” MJ deadpans behind them.

Peter spots Betty at the front of the crowd, predictably one of the loudest voices questioning the new rules. Flash, aloof except when he has a snide comment to offer. And several of his other classmates, reacting just as they would have five years ago. When the Blipped are together, it’s like being in a time bubble—before Peter and everyone else are pulled back to the real world.

“I know it’s a good thing we don’t have to study that much," Peter says later in the library, "because we already had notes from five years ago, but it’s like...”

“—like, what's the whole point?” Ned passionately agrees. The two friends slam their physics notebooks shut—only to grudgingly open them again, two minutes later.

“You ever feel like, nobody gets that no time has passed _at all_ for us,” Ned mumbles. "We're _exactly_ like before."

Peter shrugs. “Half the universe gets it.”

“Then why doesn’t it feel that way?”

_Why doesn't it, indeed._

Peter smiles, thinking he doesn’t know what he would do without Ned. What if he’d come back to find his best friend suddenly five years older?

But a pang of guilt shuts Peter's thought down immediately. All this had come at the price of Ned’s mother grieving him for five whole years. How selfish was it to be thankful for that?

Peter buries his face in a book. “I guess we’d better just review, dude.”

Not even hanging out with Ned could be exactly the same as before.

* * *

“Are you the head Avenger now?”

“W-what?”

The reporter shoves a microphone in Peter’s face. “Now that Iron Man’s retired. You two did a lot of missions together throughout New York, does that mean you’re the next—”

“No, no I’m not." He turns back to the crowd outside the building where his aunt just launched the new housing program for those displaced by the Blip. "Next question?”

The voices blur together, flashes from cameras going off in Peter’s face—all around—shouts from one side then another—

“If the aliens come back, what are you gonna do?” someone yells.

Peter’s breath hitches.

_“Activate instant kill mode.” The aliens are crowding, they’re burying him. Shouts from one side, then another._

He shakes his head to clear it. “Does anyone have any _neighborhood_ questions?”

Another reporter moves forward; Peter leans in. “What is it like to take over from Tony Stark? Those are some big shoes to fill.”

“Uh, not really,” Peter deflects. “Guy wears a size eight.” He hopes, through the ripple of laughs, no one hears his breathing getting heavier.

"What was it like in outer space—" "How did this alien invasion compare to the Battle of New York—" "What can Spider-Man—" "Spider-Man—" "Spider-Man!"

The flashes and shouts continue, his heartbeat pounds in his ears, until finally, Peter has had enough.

"Alright, I gotta go. Thanks, everyone!"

He finds a quiet rooftop to escape to, takes off his mask, and _breathes_ for just a while.

When he's calmed down enough to take a look around, Peter spots the graffiti on the building across the street. It depicts the Battle. Most major Avengers posing together, standing against an unseen foe. Iron Man at front and center, of course. Peter can even see his Iron Spider suit near the back. In their stylized armor, shiny and dentless, all Peter can see is victory.

And all he can feel is his heartbeat, once again starting to pound.

* * *

"Activate instant kill—"

Peter turns to dust before he can finish the sentence. He's back on Titan, knees unsteady, apologizing to Tony for dying. And just as quickly, he's back on Earth again, fighting for his life.

Sometimes Peter's nightmares take a darker turn, built on fears instead of memories. This time he's kneeling on a calm battlefield, Thanos's forces finally fallen, but Peter's chest is pounding harder than it ever did during the fight. In front of him, Tony leans against a piece of wreckage, his face burnt. Eyes unseeing.

Peter wakes up sobbing "I'm sorry" into his crumpled blanket.

And Peter's no stranger to this. He's talked to May, to Tony, to the therapist both of them insisted he see—but it doesn't make the memories any less real. Titan and Earth, because they were one big combined battle for him, not separate events. One big combined nightmare.

Spider-Man goes on an early morning patrol that day.

* * *

He hears it before he sees it—the speeding bike, the distracted pedestrian kicking at stones. Peter sweeps the person into the air seconds before impact. Probably not a life-and-death situation, but still, he's glad he decided to take an early swing in Brooklyn that morning.

"You okay, pal?"

The kid—it was a _kid—_ looks at him with a mixture of shock and awe. "You're Spider-Man!"

"And you're a ten-year-old!" Peter sets themselves down on a sidewalk. "You with anyone? Can I help you get somewhere?"

"I—I'm eleven." The kid looks around. "Here's good, I know the neighborhood. Thank—"

"—on second thought." Peter looks the kid up and down. His hastily bundled jacket. Faraway eyes. Smudges on the kid's face he's pretty sure are there to hide tear tracks. "I kinda know this neighborhood too, there's a great churro place down the street. You wanna come along?"

Peter wasn't sure it would work, but soon he and the kid are leaning side by side against a building, munching on churros. He has to admit, after fate-of-the-world battles, it's nice to be doing friendly neighborhood Spider-Man things again.

"Look, you don't have to tell me anything," Peter begins, his mask bunched halfway up his face as he takes a bite. "I just wanna make sure you, uh… don't wander all distracted again after I leave."

"I… might still wander. But I'm gonna work on the distracted part."

"Little early for a walk."

"Like I said, I know the neighborhood. Don't worry, I live nearby."

The kid gestures at an apartment building; Peter immediately recognizes the sign on the front. It's part of the Blip housing project May was heading.

"Oh," Peter says.

The kid sighs. "I'm just glad I haven't completely lost my way around the streets. Five years moves fast."

"I get a feeling you're not just talking about the new buildings."

The kid munches silently for a minute, and when he speaks Peter can barely hear him. "My mom and I were Blipped. We get back, and, like… my uncle is… um, and my dad won't talk to him… so yeah. Five years moves pretty fast."

"I'm sorry." Peter knows half the universe must have similar jarring experiences, but he can't help feeling connected to this kid in particular. Maybe it's the morning churros. Or the kid's downturned eyes that make Peter think this is something he doesn't often talk to others about. Peter knows that look all too well. "It's a whole different world," he finds himself opening up. "Almost feels like you're… lost in your own home."

The kid looks up, mouth open. "You, too?"

Peter shrugs in acknowledgement. "It's no secret I was Blipped."

"I know, I saw the news." The kid twists his churro wrapper in his hands. "I guess I just never thought about it. You're… you guys are superheroes, you know?"

Peter does know. He knows how he used to look up to the Avengers, to Tony Stark, as larger than life. And he knows all too well how heroes can fall, too.

But he shrugs, deciding to take the lighter road with this kid he's just met. "There's this time I got distracted. One minute chasing car thieves, and the next, bam! Slammed right into a building that wasn't there five years ago."

"Yikes." It works—the kid laughs with Peter. It's the first time Peter has seen him smile.

Peter crumples his wrapper, landing a perfect shot in a nearby trash can. The kid follows but overshoots, and Peter webs the paper in. "Good talk. You know…” Peter pauses, willing himself to believe the next words coming out of his mouth. “We're gonna be alright, bud. Some day."

"Thanks… Spider-Man. Oh my god, I still can't believe this, my dad's gonna freak out."

"Hey, I'm just your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man."

"Miles."

Peter smiles before pulling his mask back fully on. "Nice to meet you, Miles. Keep an eye out for those crazy bikes."

* * *

"Peter?!"

Peter knows how he must look to May right now—suit still peeking out under his shirt, scattered books and holo-screens around the kitchen table, frantically scraping at burning eggs on the stove. Caught entirely in the act, Peter can't help a sheepish laugh.

Thankfully, May joins him, helping clear the blackened eggs while Peter tells her about his morning.

"So let me get this straight," May says when he's finished. "You can multitask nightmare recovery and saving people, but not homework and breakfast?"

"Uh…" Peter grimaces. "It's an art?"

"Never let it be said I'm the only Parker who's terrible in the kitchen."

"I must have gotten it _somewhere."_

"No wonder Ben always used to make the pancakes, huh?" May smiles softly.

"Hm." Peter picks up a box of flour at the memory. Their turn to make the pancakes now.

It isn't his and May's first time having to adjust to a new kind of normal. Far from it. And that, Peter realizes, is a bittersweetly reassuring thought.

"I always burn the edges," he mumbles, still staring at the flour.

May tucks some stray hair behind his ears. "And I always flip them too early. Between us, it should be perfect."

Between them, they were always able to pull through.

And Peter knows the past months haven't been easy for May, either. He thinks of Ned. Of the kid he met this morning. Of how they're all just trying to make it in a world that moved on without them.

"Hey." May takes the box of flour and starts gathering the other ingredients. "They're gonna turn out however we make them. Maybe not exactly like before. Not Ben's pancakes. Not pre-Blip pancakes. But maybe… maybe it doesn't have to be. That's the comforting thing about pancakes, I guess, you can make them many new, different ways… but still be familiar."

"If there are dad jokes," Peter says, with a slowly growing smile, "are there mom analogies?"

May chuckles. "A little messy?"

"No, May. No. It's perfect."

May pulls Peter in for a hug, and presses a quick kiss to the top of his head. "Go get us some new eggs."

* * *

It's a nice day out on the lake.

"She shoots… she scores! Touchdown!" Morgan pumps one little fist in the air, raising her mini hockey stick in the other.

"Alright, touchdown!" Tony cheers from the lakeside, and beside him, Peter laughs. "She made her own rules, I can barely keep up," Tony explains. "Touchdown in hockey is worth two thousand points, I think."

"Good for her," Peter grins. Grinning seems to come easier here. Pepper, May, and Happy skate with Morgan out on the frozen lake, while Colonel Rhodes plays referee. And Peter and Tony get some time to themselves, a little callback to more peaceful times five years ago—or three months ago, for Peter. It's different, and yet, comfortingly familiar. Like pancakes.

He and Tony walk around the lake, snow crunching under their boots, as Peter reports on his patrols just like he used to before. Well, patrols, and a little bit more.

He ends up telling Tony everything. Ned. Miles. His flashbacks of Titan. His nightmares. Little problems Peter would have never dreamed of sharing with his hero when they first met, but by now are a normal part of their relationship.

He talks, and Tony listens, and soon they end up sitting in companionable silence on the pier, watching the others play on the lake.

It's a nice day, even for laying out one's trauma.

"Don't be discouraged when the nightmares… they don't go away that easily," Tony speaks up after a long pause. Peter had just finished talking about his recurring flashbacks of Titan, and now picks at his jacket zipper as Tony gets a turn at speaking. "I know it can feel like you're right there, back on… well…"

"Back to dust," Peter says succinctly.

Tony lays a hand on his shoulder, reminding Peter he’s right there, firm, solid. And maybe reminding himself, too.

Peter shrugs. "It's fine to talk about them out here. In daylight. It's when I'm right in the middle of one that I… I get scared," he admits.

"The fact you're talking about them at all already means a lot," Tony says, and sometimes Peter just can't help marveling at how much of a _dad_ his mentor has transformed into since the Blip. "You can always come to me, Underoos. Anytime it gets bad, even if it’s the middle of the night. You have my number."

"Tell me it gets better."

Tony looks at him and doesn't answer for a while. "In time," he finally says.

"How long did it take for you?"

"Kid, when I get my last orange planet nightmare, I'll tell you."

Peter stares, the meaning of Tony's statement taking a while to sink in. "You, too?" The simple question makes him feel like a little kid, eating churros with his hero on an early morning.

Tony chuckles. "Yes, me. PTSD central, remember?"

"Even after… five years." Peter grimaces as soon as the words leave his mouth, because he doesn't mean it to sound accusatory of… weakness, or anything.

But Tony seems to get what he means. He always does. "It's hard," he says in a lower voice, looking out over the lake. "I still get—I still remember. God, Pete, we—we have nightmares of each other _dying._ And you're right, it's much easier to talk about this out in daylight, but when you're smack dab in the middle of one…" Tony trails off.

Peter bumps Tony's shoulder with his own, and echoes Tony's earlier words. "You have my number."

If even Tony Stark could admit to not getting all sunshine after the happy ending, Peter supposes, so could he.

"Hm." Tony smiles. "Look at us. Airing our feelings out like healthy folks."

"Well, they’re a pretty good influence." Peter looks over at their family on the lake. May, laughing heartily. Pepper, passing her the puck—which is immediately intercepted by Morgan. Sweeping through the adults easily, she scores another touchdown.

Peter and Tony join in the cheers.

“They are,” Tony agrees, and when his arm comes down from cheering, it settles around Peter’s shoulders.

It's a nice day.

* * *

It isn't always easy.

But maybe, Peter comes to think, maybe the happy ending isn’t the sunshine and the rainbows. Maybe it’s the fatherly voice, talking him down from a panic attack in the middle of the night. The warm smile that greets him in the morning, with pancake ingredients ready in the kitchen. The best friend who, through everything, never leaves his side.

The little things to look forward to, despite how everything else has changed.

"Europe trip this summer! Can you believe it?" Ned grins at the class in general, dropping into the desk beside Peter.

Peter returns his smile and jokes, “If Parker luck doesn’t mess that up.”

“Come on, Peter, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“They’re just trying to win us back after that restarting-the-school-year thing,” Betty chimes in as she passes the boys. “But it’s… something to look forward to.”

“Not bad,” even Flash has to admit.

In the corner, MJ only shrugs, but something about it catches Peter’s eye. Or maybe something about _her._

Peter doesn’t get much time to think about it as class starts. He only knows that for once, things seem to be changing in a normal way, instead of an end-of-the-universe way. For once, Peter can focus more on _living_ than fighting. On being there for the little guy, for his friends, his family—especially those like him. Those just trying to make it in a world that moved on without them.

And for once—as he reaches under the desks to offer Ned a churro, and as their classmates settle in around them—for once, Peter thinks, it’s good to be back.


End file.
